Monster
by Southpaw Swordsman
Summary: To understand the darkness in others, you have to first understand the darkness in yourself. A re-imagining of the LA BB Murder cases; a completely separate story from Another Note.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Before beginning Laurent anew, I have decided to write a short story with adult L. This is my own idea of what happened in the Death Note "Noodle Incident," the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. Certainly there have been other ideas of what happened during that Noodle Incident (see Death Note: Another Note) but those are still professional fan fictions at best. **

**Therefore, I decided to write out my own ideas of what may have happened.**

**...and, somewhat unfortunately, there will be no Beyond Birthday in this version.**

**Thank you for your interest... and with that, we are off.**

* * *

Prologue

The room was small and sterile, with a door on one wall, and large mirror that stretched across its opposite. Above, a dying florescent light flickered from its position on the low ceiling.

There in that room, sitting on the single chair at the single table, his back to the door, was a man with his hands cuffed behind him. Facing him on the table sat a small open laptop. Upon its blazing white screen was a single image: a large, black L.

"…after studying the crime scenes, we realized that the series of deaths at Nagasaki, once considered to be an unfortunate series of love-suicides, were actually murders. Not only that, but murders that you yourself have committed… The evidence we have collected is more than enough to convict you," a distorted voice said calmly, radiating out of the laptop's speakers.

The man stared at the screen, but his face betrayed no emotion.

The room fell quiet; the only sound came from the light buzzing overhead.

"Do you deny this?" the voice asked.

"No," the man said calmly.

"Then, the only question that remains," the voice said, "… is why."

"Why?" The man asked, cocking his head a little to the side and looking confused. It was the first time that evening that he was showing some sort of emotion.

"Yes," the voice replied, "I would like to know what made a seemingly respectable man such as yourself commit such disgusting acts against humanity. There is simply no rational reason for it. You had nothing to gain and everything to lose."

"Why…" the man looked down silently. After a while, he opened his mouth, and his eyes snapped up, managing to stare straight into the laptop's webcam, "I suppose you could say… I was bored."

"Bored?" the voice questioned.

"Yes, bored," the man confirmed, leaning back slightly in his seat, "Day to day life can be very dull, you understand. This is simply a way of alleviating my boredom."

The voice was silent, so the man continued.

"I'm sure you have felt this way, too. It's probably the reason why you are even talking to me right now… You are bored, so you spend your time hunting down and incarcerating people like me. I doubt it is the law that drives you. After all, if it were the law, you would have become a police officer. No… your drive comes from the hunt. It gives you a thrill, doesn't it? Something to fill the void in your soul."

"This is a matter of justice," the voice replied calmly.

"You can excuse it however you like," the man said, "It doesn't change the true motive, does it? I can tell just by the way you talk. You and I are very similar."

There was a brief pause.

"We very well may be," the voice responded, "The difference is, I am on the right side of the law."

The man nodded, but his calm demeanor didn't break.

"Officers, I believe this is more than enough of a confession," the voice said quietly.

The door behind the man opened and two police officers walked in, trailed by a shadowy man wearing a large coat and hat.

The officers grabbed the man at the table, forcing him to stand upright. The man didn't resist at all, and instead looked at both of them with an expression of complete indifference.

"I hope that alleviating your boredom was worth it," the voice said as the man was silently led out of the room. "…Watari?" he asked as the man left the webcam's line of sight.

The shadowy man nodded and closed the laptop.


	2. Contemplation

1: Contemplation

There are many reasons why people commit murder, and those reasons are as varied as the murderers themselves. Some kill for revenge. Others do it in fits of passion or desperation. However, no matter how varied the circumstances, most of these reasons have a common root: the victim's life was in the way of the murderer's best interest, either real or imagined.

A person who kills someone in a jealous rage is getting rid of a person who is causing them to feel intense negative emotion. A person who kills due to fear is stopping the victim from possibly harming the murderer in some way. One can even make this case for the psychotic murderer. They may kill to quiet the voices in their heads that demand bloodshed, or in other cases, because an innocent victim isn't as innocent in their own twisted minds.

However, some murders cannot be explained so easily.

In some instances, the victim isn't of any significance. They weren't inconveniencing the killer in any way, whether in the realistic or fantastic sense. In fact, it is almost entirely based on luck whether or not someone dies at this murderer's hands.

Those who commit these murderers are the most enigmatic, and yet most simple killers of them all. They seem to kill for simply the sport of it. There is no loss of self-control. There was nothing to be gained by killing off one person as opposed to another.

They killed… because that's what they did.

The young man stared at a bright computer monitor, its screen showing various images of the most recent killer he had captured. It had been months after the Nagasaki Love-Suicide Cases had been closed, and yet he couldn't get the murderer out of his mind… his dull, almost lifeless eyes, his calm and yet intense demeanor… there was just something so frightening about him…

The young man forced himself to look away from the computer and instead busied himself by staring at the floor. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen people like the murderer before. It was impossible not to meet people like that in this line of work. However, every time he had the pleasure of meeting one…

His computer chirped and he glanced back at the monitor, which had replaced the various photographs of the Nagasaki Murderer with a plain white screen housing a single detailed w.

"L," a voice said, one he recognized as belonging to his "handler."

"Yes?" the young man asked, pushing away any unpleasant thoughts from his mind, "What is it?"

"Do you remember two weeks ago, when we were discussing the deaths in Los Angeles?"

He blinked. Of course he did. The LAPD had contacted him after they had found the second victim, asking if he wanted to help with the investigations. Almost immediately he decided that they weren't worth his involvement. There were only two deaths, with similar victims of similar backgrounds. It was almost laughably simple. The local police department would easily be able to sort the case out; there was no need for him to be there… He thought he made it clear the first time.

_...apparently not._

The young man frowned and replied, "Yes, I remember."

"Well, it appears that the killer has been active again. The LAPD would like to have another word with you."

The young man's frown deepened, but he said, "Fine, tell them I'll speak with them."

* * *

"What do you _mean_ he said no?" One of the commissioners growled, "Doesn't he realize that people are dying? Young people! Doesn't he care about that?"

"Well, to be fair, he _did_ tell us he believed we were more than capable of solving the case by ourselves," the police chief replied.

"Honestly, I'm surprised he even gave us the rejection personally," an officer mumbled.

Unfortunately for the Los Angeles Police Department, negotiations with "the greatest detective in the world" weren't going as smoothly as anticipated. Because of this, the board of commissioners, as well as the police chief and a handful of officers had all been called in for an impromptu meeting, and had all crammed themselves into a small meeting room in the police station.

The commissioner who had spoken had stood up and began pacing around, much to the displeasure of everyone else in the room.

"The FBI is already getting involved," the commissioner griped, his hands and his voice becoming more and more animated as time went on, "…you did tell him that the death count is now at four, right? Two more just this week?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"That's four young men and women! Killed in an incredibly disgusting way! With absolutely no clues as to whom the killer may be!"

"It's still early in the case and we're still investigating," the police chief said, "Please just, calm down… it's not like we need him, anyway. We've been able to solve cases like this before."

"Yeah, who needs him?" one of the officers agreed.

"It was only four deaths…"

"There were two in this week alone!" The commissioner snapped in frustration.

"It's still only four overall… that's a really small number. I mean, if I were L, I wouldn't be wasting my time on this just yet…" a young officer began.

"Wasting your time?" the commissioner asked, spinning around to glare at the young officer who had spoken, "This isn't wasting time, this is bringing a serial killer to justice! Do you think the _victims' families_ think this is just _wasting time…?_"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door of the meeting room.

"What is it? What do you want?" the commissioner barked, spinning on his heels to yell at the door, "What is so important that you have to interrupt us?!"

The door opened slightly and a young woman peeked in. Everyone's eyes in the room immediately snapped to her, and she almost shrunk away due to the amount of attention alone, "I'm sorry to bother you, but we just received a new report, and I thought you ought to know about it."

"Well, hurry up and spit it out!" the commissioner barked.

"The killer has… struck again."


End file.
